


How to Defeat Sherlock Holmes

by BobRoser



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:50:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobRoser/pseuds/BobRoser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John attempts to set up a date between his best friend and his favourite pathologist</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shut Up, John.

It was a normal Tuesday morning at 221B Baker Street. Well, as normal as you could get when you shared a flat with Sherlock Holmes. I went downstairs to find him hanging upside-down from the ceiling.  
'What the hell are you doing?!' I shouted.  
'Thinking' replied Sherlock, his hands held together with his fingers just touching his nose.  
'Last time I checked, thinking did not require you hanging upside-down from the ceiling like some bloody bat!' I pointed out. Honestly, I should be used to this by now. I had been sharing a flat with Sherlock for the past 18 months yet Sherlock just seemed to be getting weirder and weirder.  
'Yes, well this time it requires it.' murmured Sherlock. He was doing his 'thinking' face again. God, it was annoying. I sighed and went over to the fridge. I prepared myself for the atrocities which could possibly be one of Sherlock's 'experiments'. I still hadn't forgiven him for the severed head incident. So, I was surprised to find some eggs and milk which wasn't past his sell-by-date.  
'There is food in the fridge.' I said in surprise.  
'Isn't there normally food in the fridge?' Sherlock questioned.  
'Maybe if you're a cannibal' I muttered. I proceeded to take the eggs out of the fridge and was in the process of trying to find a usable pan (a.k.a. not having stains of blood or some chemical Sherlock had decided would be fun to blow up) when there was a massive crash. I whirled around to find Sherlock lying on the floor - still in his thinking position.  
'What - the - hell?' I exclaimed.  
'I was bored' was the cool reply.  
'Sorry... but, you were bored - of hanging upside down... so'  
'So I decided to stop.'  
'By crashing to the ground?!'  
'Your deductive skills are amazing, John. They should give you a medal' said Sherlock sarcastically. I was in process of forming a snappy reply when he was interrupted by a;  
'Sheerlock?' Mrs. Hudson hurried into the room, 'Sherlock, dear, why are you lying on the floor? Are you ill?'  
'I'm fine, Mrs. Hudson' he murmured.  
'I heard the crash. Was that you, Sherlock? Are you sure you don't want -'  
'I'm FINE, Mrs. Hudson'  
'He was bored of hanging upside-down' I explained. Mrs. Hudson looked confused.  
'Yeah, I know' I said and Mrs. Hudson and I shared the 'what the hell is going on in Sherlock's brain? I honestly have no idea.' stare. Suddenly, Sherlock leaped upright with a look of triumph and joy on his face.  
'The manager! Of course! The papers!' he shouted, ecstatic. He turned to face John;  
'It's the manager, John! It's the manager!' A look of frustration crossed Sherlock's face when my face remained blank.  
'The Haugton Murders! You know, the case on Sunday?'  
'I wasn't here on Sunday!' I exclaimed.  
'Yes you were'  
'I really wasn't, Sherlock'  
'But you were commenting on food in the fridge!'  
'That was a minute ago!' I resisted the urge to facepalm. Sherlock always had weird time warps when he was thinking.  
'Oh' Sherlock said whilst looking a bit confused. I then went back to my search for a usable pan which was at the moment, seeming like a hopeless task.  
'No, dear, I'll cook for you. Sherlock's getting far too thin.' fretted Mrs. Hudson. For all her countless arguments about how she wasn't our housekeeper, she did look after us as protectively as our mother would. It was one of the main reasons why we loved her, even Sherlock did. So, fifteen minutes later, we were tucking into scrambled eggs whilst Sherlock read The Times.  
'Any murders for you to solve?' inquired Mrs. Hudson as she tried to tempt us to a third helping.  
'No' sighed Sherlock. He looked so... disappointed. It was one of the things you had to get used to about Sherlock, he was rather... unfeeling. But this did mean he could do his job well. Brilliantly, in fact, although it usually involved offending dozens of people.  
'So, you have a date tonight, John' Sherlock said casually. I sighed, another bad aspect of Sherlock - he loved to show-off.  
'How did you know?' I resigned myself and in 3, 2, 1:  
'You're wearing a tie. That means you're going somewhere important. Yet you haven't shaved. That means it isn't Mycroft or any other type of business meeting. You've also polished your shoes. That and you're wearing the shirt Jeanette complimented.' Sherlock said this all on in about 5 seconds.  
'It's not Jeanette anymore. Remember? The whole Christmas disaster and that?' I reminded him. Not that he would remember.  
'Another one?' it was Sherlock's turn to sigh.  
'Yep' I didn't add that I mostly split up with because of HIM. He liked insulting them but then again, he liked insulting everyone. I decided it was my turn to steer the girlfriend/boyfriend conversation.  
'What about you, Sherlock?' I asked, already knowing the answer:  
'You know I don't concern myself with these matters. It distracts me from my work.' He raised the paper slightly higher so I could only see the top of his head.  
'What about... Molly?' I questioned, although I knew I was walking on a possible minefield. Sherlock remained silent.  
'I could arrange a date, you know. I'm sure she would sa -'  
'NO' shouted Sherlock who looked utterly mortified. 'No' he repeated, more controlled 'that would be a very bad idea, John.'  
'Why?' I asked. 'Everyone knows you like each other.'  
'What? I don't like - I do but - not in that way...' watching Sherlock get flustered was hilarious.  
'Yeah you do'  
'John, please. You know me.'  
'Exactly. And you like Molly Hooper.'  
'This conversation has ended.'  
'You're not denying it!'  
'Oh, shut up John!' Sherlock immediately left the table and went and sulked on the sofa. Mrs. Hudson and I barely suppressed the laughter. I knew I would definitely continue this conversation later.


	2. The Scab Experiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's unsuccessful attempts to set up Sherlock and Molly continue.

That evening, I decided to press the topic again.  
'I'm going to call her!', I slumped down on the leather sofa. Sherlock was still curled up in a cat-like ball, taking up most. The sofa.  
'John, this is entirely unnecessary.'  
'Well, if you're never going to ask her yourself...'  
'That's because I don't want to. I have absolutely no desire to go on a 'date' with anybody, especially not Molly Hooper, with whom my relationship is entirely professional.'  
'Entirely professional, is it? Ok. Ok. You know you're a terrible actor, don't you, Sherlock?'  
'We both know that I am in fact an excellent actor, as I have amply demonstrated on many a case.'  
'Was that an attempt to change the subject?'  
'It wasn't an attempt. I have quite successfully changed the subject from 'the suggestion of you arranging a date between Molly Hooper and I', to 'my attempt to change the subject'.   
'So it was an attempt?'  
'John, shut up.'  
'No! I'm going to call Molly and set up a date for the two of you.'  
'Why, John?'  
'Because you want me to.'  
'I do not!'   
'Look who's on the defensive!'  
'What a ridiculous expression! Of course I'm on the defensive, because you're trying to offend me.'  
'Why is it offensive to suggest that you might want to go out with Molly Hooper?'  
'John, I don't want to go out with Molly Hooper. This conversation is over.'.  
'Sherlock...'  
'I said over, John.'  
He was thoroughly occupied by his current case, three sisters had all fallen mysteriously ill, and then been found, dead in their isolated island home. A flash search of the vicinity found that there was nobody within travelling distance of their home. The authorities had assumed that this was a suicide pact, but there were no marks or clear causes of death. Recently, Sherlock had been obsessed with testing the bodies.  
'Of course! Of course!'  
'What?'  
'Oh nothing. John, I'm going to Scotland Yard.'

He was out for over an hour, but he was in a much better mood when he returned.  
'So, what was it?  
'Cortinarius orellanus, poisonous mushroom. Very slow-working. Could have been planted over three weeks ago. Or exactly three weeks ago. When the ex-boyfriend visited. Could have planted it anywhere, because when powdered they can be mixed unobtrusively into many things around the house. But I think it was the flour. I'm sure it was the flour.'  
'Good good. Anyway, about Molly...'  
'John, what part of no is so difficult for you to comprehend!?'  
'The part where I know you like her!'  
He turned over, curled up like a cat on the sofa, and I gave up and went to bed.

'The part where I know you like her!' I persisted.  
'John, if I become too emotionally attached to people, Moriarty could use it against me. Moriarty would kill you, or Molly or Mrs .Hudson, very willingly. Just to make me do something or cause me pain. I've already made the mistake of being friends with you and I cant let it happen again.' I stared at him in disbelief. Hurt and anger washed over me like a tidal wave.  
'Oh don't worry. At this rate, I won't be your friend for much longer.' I retorted angrily. I saw the his face become a mask of confusion and for a moment I pitied him. He didn't understand emotions, he had detached himself from them for too long. But that didn't stop me from sulking off to bed, leaving Sherlock pondering on the sofa. I was lying in bed when I though the subject over again. Sherlock deserved a life. I didn't believe he should separate himself from people like Molly because Moriarty might kill them. That was our choice. I knew I was at risk of being kidnapped or even killed because I was Sherlock's accomplice but I had accepted that. So had Molly. He needed to give her a chance. I turned over and settled on the fact I would continue pressing the issue until Sherlock buckled. Not to my surprise, the next couple of weeks were full of random arguments about the subject.  
'For the final time, I said NO'  
'No you don't'  
'I know myself better than you do John'  
'Actually, you don't. You're ignoring your emotions... again.'  
'One: it is physically impossible for you to know me better than I know myself, two: I have survived without emotion for many years and I intend to do so for many more and three: I'm not going on a date with Molly Hooper!'  
'Why are you so annoying?' I muttered.  
'I'M annoying?!' he exclaimed whilst setting the curtains alight with a Bunsen burner. That ended the conversation very quickly. After a while, I was ready to accept defeat. Sherlock was being more stubborn than a spoilt 2-year old. Yet I was still determined to make it happen. I soon realised that the only way to go about it was to be cunning. I tried to justify my plan by saying it was in his best interest but I still felt slightly guilty. However, this problem was very quickly resolved when on a particularly bizarre case, Sherlock forced me to pretend to be a gorilla on the loose. And yes, there was a costume. Somehow, I didn't feel so guilty anymore. So on a particularly un-eventful Monday afternoon, I decided it was time to set the plan into action. Sherlock was pacing around the room, Mongolian sword in hand. He hadn't had a case for a week and he was getting increasingly restless. A dull thunk noise forced me to look up from my book. I turned around to find the sword, lodged into the wall, only a foot above my head.   
'Did you just try to kill me?' I asked as casually I could.  
'No. Do you want me to?' Sherlock replied sarcastically. Sherlock in a bad mood. This was going to be fun.  
'Uh, Sherlock, I don't really appreciate you just threw a sword a foot away from my head' I said slowly.  
'Well, it wasn't going like I was going to miss!' Sherlock said impatiently. He collapsed into the leather armchair.  
'God, I'm so BORED!' he shouted.  
'You get bored way too easily. And you might have missed.' I pointed out.  
'Of course I wouldn't have missed! And it's easy for YOU not to be bored, your mind is ordinary, so little of it is used.' Sherlock sighed with his head in his hands. I scowled. He usually said things like that.  
'Look, if you're so bored, go to St. Bart's. Molly said your scab experiment has produced some interesting results.' I suggested, as casually as I could.  
'Hmmm. Maybe.'  
'Well, what else is there to do?! Unless you want me to go back to the topic of -'  
'O.k. I'm going' Sherlock hastily interrupted and in 10 seconds he had his scarf and trench coat on and was pulling on his gloves. He nearly ran out of the room. I smiled. I watched from the window as he hailed a taxi and climbed in. Now I was certain he had gone, I pulled out my mobile phone. I scrolled through the list of contacts until I found the one I was looking for:  
'Molly? Hi'  
'Hi, John. What's up?'  
'Oh, I just wanted to say Sherlock wanted your help for that scab experiment thing? He's on his way to St. Bart's right now.'  
'Sherlock wanted my help?' It was obvious from her voice she was happy to hear it and I felt really guilty for lying. I prayed Sherlock would stick to my plan or at least, be a gentleman. Only then did I realise this might not have been the best idea... but it was too late now.  
'Yeah'  
'I'm on my way there now. Thanks, John.'  
'Your welcome, bye'  
'Bye' I ended the call and prayed that my plan worked. This could either go really well... or disastrously wrong. 

From Sherlock's mood at the day's end it was clear that my plan had worked Sherlock was on a post-case like high all evening, talking at length about the results of the scab experiment. I did not ask him directly about Molly because it felt pointless to disturb such an excellent mood. However except for an increase in my knowledge about the human healing system nothing came of it. When I next asked him about the date Sherlock snapped at me and went silent from most of the next hour. So Sherlock believes he hides his emotions but often I can read between the lines more than he assumes. But this time he had been mystified. It was clear of course that Sherlock wanted to go on the date with Molly, so why the refusal? Fear of rejection was a possibility but it just didn't seem… Sherlock. Especially as even a person with average deduction skills could tell at a glance that Molly was infatuated with him. The Moriarty problem loomed in the background, but he had discussed it with Sherlock, surely he could see past it by now? Then it hit me. Sherlock was scared of inadequacy, scared of the unknown. As far as I, and everyone I'd asked, knew, he'd never been in a relationship. He was scared he wouldn't be able to do what was expected of him, by society, and maybe by Molly.   
I decided to test my theory the next day during breakfast. Show was restless, cutting his single slice of toast into tiny squares, knife grating harshly against the porcelain plate. 'Sherlock', I started, hesitantly 'have you ever actually, um, been, on a date?'   
Sherlock paused, and speared a piece of toast with his fork.  
'John, my romantic history or lack thereof is not a subject for the breakfast table. I would never involve myself in your personal life, so I'd like to be done the same favour.'  
The supreme irony and untruthfulness of Sherlock's last statement nearly made me choke on my scrambled egg, leaving me coughing long enough for Mrs. Hudson to enter at start a banal conversation about the weather, and I could tell from Sherlock's gaze that the battle was lost. A new strategy was necessary.


End file.
